


If You Ever Need To Speak...

by StarkRogers



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 04:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarkRogers/pseuds/StarkRogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Copyright: This is an original work of fiction. Sherlock Holmes is public domain, making this piece of work legally mine. You may not reproduce or publish this work on any site or in any journal or any other form of media without my permission. </p><p> </p><p>Lestrade has once again been humiliated by Sherlock Holmes at a crime scene. Gregson is turned on by it, and so is Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Ever Need To Speak...

"I'm _sorry_. If you will _excuse_ me for a moment." The sharp, bitter words of Detective Inspector Lestrade were meant to pierce the ears of Sherlock Holmes, but the world's only consulting detective had surprisingly thick eardrums, as well as selective hearing that seemed tuned only to John Watson's voice. Gravel crunched as the Inspector spun on his heel and charged away from the latest corpse, frustration and humiliation burning his cheeks. Sherlock Holmes had once again utterly destroyed Lestrade's attempts at solving a case in front of half the Yard as well as his rival inspector, Gregson. Blood pounded in his ears such that he didn't hear the fall of feet chasing him around the street corner, or that they followed when he slipped into an alleyway.

"God damn you Holmes!" Lestrade cried, pounding his fist into the wall. The rough brick was unyielding to soft flesh, and the pain only fueled his anger. He kicked the wall this time, scuffing his shoe and sending pain shooting up his foot. Finally he resorted to smacking his palms against the wall repeatedly, uttering nonsensical noises, unable to articulate beyond animalistic growls.

"I think you've thoroughly chastised the wall, Lestrade," came a dry voice. Lestrade's head turned sharply, his neck twinging. Gregson stood there, his arms crossed, leaning against the corner to the alley.

"You enjoy it," Lestrade growled, curling his hands into fists against the bricks. "You relish every quip he makes, every humiliating joke that goes over my head. I see you, smiling, laughing." Lestrade nearly spat on the other inspector, glaring at him contemptuously. Gregson shrugged.

"He's usually right."

Having inflicted enough self-injury on the wall, Lestrade lashed out at the much softer target standing in front of him, mocking him. Lestrade threw himself at the taller man, his wild punch easily blocked by the calmer inspector. Gregson backed out of the alley a bit to get away from Lestrade, expecting a second wild swing from the other arm. He'd left his midsection completely open, and wasn't prepared for when Lestrade grabbed his jacket and bodily pulled him back into the alley.

The pair stumbled awkwardly backwards, Lestrade apparently unprepared for the full weight of Gregson's off-balance body. They crashed to the ground and the air shot out of Lestrade's lungs, courtesy of the other inspector landing on his diaphragm. Gregson pushed himself up with his arms, hands scraping against the rough dirt and gravel.

"Happy now?" Gregson disdainfully asked the wheezing inspector. He sat back on his knees, brushing himself off, casting the occasional disgusted look down at Lestrade. "Got everything you'd like to do to Mr. Holmes over with?"

Gregson wasn't expecting Lestrade to recover quite so quickly, nor for him to switch their positions on the floor of the alley quite so efficiently. Gregson winced as the small stones ground into his ribs and spine, Lestrade making no effort to lessen his press against Gregson's body.

"Oh no. I'm not finished."

Amusement crossed Gregson's mind for a brief moment until Lestrade's fist impacted his jaw, snapping his head to the right. Dazed, a crawling fear replaced amusement as the back of his head painfully tried to find a place to rest in the gravel, and coppery blood pooled in his mouth.

"Damnit! Lestrade, what the hell-" and then he was being dragged to his feet by the inspector, and thrown face-first against the wall. He winced as his already bruising jaw hit the brick. Gregson blamed it on pure incredulity that the shorter, slighter man was able to do any of it. "Lestrade, get off this, Be civil-" He was cut off once more, this time by the forceful press of Lestrade's entire body against his back.

"Shut up, Gregson. I've seen you. You get off on it." Gregson's mind whirled, trying to grasp at what socially inappropriate act Lestrade was implying.

"I most certainly do not! I don't even know what you're talking about!" Lestrade shoved a knee between Gregson's legs, forcing them open, and his breath hitched. "Lestrade!" Pure disbelief, that's what it was. Absolute shock held him frozen, his hands pressed open against the wall.

"My humiliation, Gregson. Don't play coy with me. You love watching as Holmes destroys me publicly, tarnishes my reputation. It's why you always make sure to be there during his grand reveals. Because you want to watch me squirm." Lestrade's voice lowered to a vicious hiss, and he punctuated it by thrusting his hips against Gregson's backside. Gregson was speechless as he felt a hard lump press against him from behind. His brain couldn't process any of this fast enough, and so Lestrade helped him along by slithering a hand in between Gregson's hips and the wall, squeezing the growing heat there. Gregson coughed hoarsely and drove his hips into the wall, grinding Lestrade's knuckles into the brick. 

"Alright, perhaps a bit, but this is-"

"Shut up and tell me what I did wrong during this case."

Gregson's brain took another spin; would the world please cease spiraling! 

"Wha… what?" he stammered as Lestrade's nails scraped up his length, making a ripping noise against the fabric. Gregson shuddered, shaking his head incoherently. Lestrade blessedly explained while undoing Gregson's trousers. 

"I want to do so many things to Mr. Holmes, but that's not going to happen. But you get off on my humiliation just as much, so you'll do." Gregson's trousers and underwear were shoved down suddenly, freeing him and baring him to Lestrade. Gregson's breath hitched in his throat, but he finally found words to say.

"You... You let your men trample all over the scene before Mr. Holmes even got there," he said, a bit of a smile curling over his lips. Lestrade rewarded him with a strong stroke, and Gregson bit his bottom lip, moaning.

"Go on," Lestrade said a bit breathlessly, rubbing his thumb against Gregson's cock in anticipation. Gregson could feel the inspector's other hand fumbling with his own belt and trousers from behind. 

"The man's wife was clearly trying to distract you and keep you out of the front closet -oh!" Gregson had been rewarded with another set of firm strokes, and he found himself trembling. "Even I could tell she had injured her left hand on something ho---oooh… hot." Gregson forced himself to swallow, pressing his eyes closed as Lestrade's hand kept pace with the criticism. 

"You actually believed her when she said her son was out of town! Ah! Oh God Lestrade…" Gregson's voice shook as he felt the other detective finally free himself, pressing his length against his bare ass. The moment Gregson stopped talking, Lestrade stopped stroking, as if possessed by infinite patience. 

"Keep talking," Lestrade moaned, pressing against him. Lestrade was enjoying this greatly, but he needed more, it wasn't nearly enough that his face was flushed with shame against the other inspector's back. Gregson nearly laughed deliriously. He could barely stand, how on earth could he… but details of the case kept flooding his mind. 

"You… were so stupid, would have taken weeks to track him down! If not… for tracks in- oh God - garden, tracks in the garden! Oh yes…" Gregson could hear as the other inspector licked his free hand, moistening it. Then a cold finger was sliding between his cheeks, and his voice broke, anticipating when Lestrade would press inside. Lestrade stopped again, and didn't speak this time, instead letting the other inspector groan when he realised he'd have to keep talking.

"Fuck! Garden, tracks… Uh… trampled! Your men trampled them almost to oblivion oh-christ-yes, he found them, barely." Gregson barely registered that his head was pressed solidly against the wall, sweating against the cool brick as Lestrade's finger finally slid inside. "You nearly _bungled_ the- Oh Jesus!" Gregson gasped as Lestrade curled his finger down when Gregson emphasized the word "bungled", and he decided that more words needed to be emphasized. Immediately.

"And then there was _maid_! Oh yes! M-maid who had the _linens_ all cleaned at your _permissi_ -augh!" Gregson's knees nearly collapsed out beneath him as Lestrade slid in a second finger, scissoring them both to loosen him. Gregson's body had slipped down the wall several feet, and he was nearly bent over. Lestrade decided the other inspector was ready enough, and pressed against him, applying pressure but waiting for Gregson to continue before pressing in. Gregson whimpered, pressing back with need, but Lestrade just pulled away.

"Stupid bloody linens! They were covered in ash from the young man's pipe… pipe… He was… smoking -gn! Oh please God Lestrade just get it over with!" Gregson moaned as Lestrade slowly pressed inside, throttling his pace as Gregson's voice faltered. He felt full, but incomplete, and he ached to feel Lestrade completely within him. Lestrade seemed to take pity on him for once, and slid in the rest of the way as a litany of curses broke from Gregson's mouth. Once fully inside, Lestrade pushed against Gregson until the gasping man was standing upright again, pressed firmly against the wall. Lestrade stroked him once, and then spoke two words into the back of Gregson's shoulders.

"Humiliate me."

Gregson trembled, and a flood of words escaped his mouth, he could only hope they related to the case.

"You moron! You nearly ruined everything! You lost the boy, you nearly destroyed all the evidence, you were distracted by the silly woman! Everything that could have gone wrong did! You're such an idiot even Watson sees what you miss!"

Gregson was distantly aware of Lestrade's arm wrapping around his chest as he beat into the inspector's hand, the sensation of friction coming from two directions heating him from the inside out. Lestrade began to moan, quietly losing himself under the insults that made him burn.

"You'll… never be… as smart… as him!" Gregson's hips twitched and suddenly Lestrade was hitting a point inside of him that turned everything white, and he was wordless, beyond even being able to breathe. Lestrade still moaned, squeezing him so tightly in his grip it was almost painful, crushing his chest with a surprisingly strong arm. It seemed to be enough, at last, and Gregson felt the other inspector buck and pause for a moment, shuddering before slowly lazy rocks of his hips returned. Gregson followed shortly after, with Lestrade's full attention focused on the other inspector's need once more. Gregson left evidence all over the brick wall, and the two men sagged to their knees, panting. 

They spent a few minutes silently cleaning up, and then Gregson hesitantly spoke. 

"If… if you ever need to talk, after a case involving Sherlock Holmes…" Lestrade cut him of with a short laugh.

"I always need someone to talk to when Sherlock Holmes is on the case." 

Gregson furiously blushed, hiding it by putting his hat back on. They walked back out together, Lestrade profusely apologizing for Gregson's cut lip and bruised jaw, explaining to the other's he'd simply had to blow off some steam, and Gregson had gotten on the bad side of it all. Gregson reached up, feeling the dried blood on his mouth. He had had completely forgotten about his lip, and his jaw, but now the stinging throb of the growing bruise bloomed to life once more. He had no words, he simply marveled at the shorter man, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Cases involving Sherlock Holmes were certainly going to be much more interesting now.


End file.
